


Tingler

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [51]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Banter, Cock Rings, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Smut, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brothels sell many things, aside from the obvious. Including enchanted rings not always meant for fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tingler

Alistair looked as if he was about to run out the door if they stayed a second longer than necessary in The Pearl, gaze firmly on anywhere but the people around him.

“No-one’s gonna recognise you here, Chantry boy.” Oghren reassured him gruffly, being far more obvious about where his gaze was as a surprisingly modestly dressed young woman crossed the room in front of them.

“It’s not that I’m worried about right now.” The ex-Templar muttered in response, his cheeks and ears slowly but surely turning faintly pink.

Theron decided to think of completely unrelated things before his mind could wonder what Alistair was worried about happening in the middle of a brothel, and instead shot the group’s resident assassin an annoyed look.

They’d been sent on Sergeant Kylon’s behalf to remove the White Falcons from the brothel, and Theron had tried to convince the mercenary group to leave peacefully. It had only been the threat of a fight that had convinced them to leave, but now they had there was little point in staying any longer. They had to report back to Sergeant Kylon, so the ranger was unsure why Zevran was talking to Sanga instead of joining them at the door.

“You know what would do you some good?” Oghren asked, and judging from the way he was looking at Alistair the question was addressed to him. Theron remained gladly quiet, watching Zevran or trying not to make eye contact with any of the men or women he thought might work at the brothel.

“A pair of nose plugs? A wheel of cheese?”

The dwarf chuckled.

“Nah. Find a girl. Doesn't matter who, as long as there's no pants involved. We’re in the right place.”

Alistair had been staring at a painting on the wall nearby, but Oghren’s advice made him finally turn his head and look at him.

“And what makes you think I haven’t?” He frowned.

“I can smell purity a mile away.” Oghren replied, smirking into his beard. “It’s a talent.”

“That must be useful, I’m sure.”

Theron’s shoulders rose and fell as he let out a silent sigh, gaze returning to the blond elf that was holding them up. He frowned when he saw the flash of coin in Zevran’s hand, which was soon given to Sanga. Had he bought something? He hadn’t seen anything being given in exchange.

“Nah, not that often. Be much better if I could smell cheese.” The dwarf admitted, drawing Theron’s reluctant attention back to the conversation, even as he tried and failed to think of what a brothel could sell. Aside from the obvious.

“You have my deepest condolences.” Alistair offered.

“Yep. So do you.” The dwarf grunted.

“What’s taking him so long?” The human muttered, nodding to Zevran, and Theron shrugged.

“Wondering that myself.” He answered, deciding not to mention that Zevran might have actually purchased something. That sounded like something he would regret mentioning later, as was often the case with Zevran.

“Maybe he’s ditching you sticks in the mud to go have some fun?” Oghren suggested.

Theron blinked, the possibility not having occurred to him even though they were standing in one of Denerim’s fancier brothels. He shifted uneasily where he stood, tempted to go over and ask Zevran what he was doing, but the other elf had turned away from Sanga and was walking back to them.

“So what does that make you, then? A nug’s uncle?” Alistair shot back.

Oghren’s response was interrupted by Zevran’s greeting.

“Oh, you all waited? Then my apologies for holding the group up. I am surprised that you didn’t choose to make yourselves comfortable.” The blond commented.

“It’s difficult to be comfortable in a brothel.” Alistair muttered, already pushing the door open. Zevran chuckled as he fell into step beside Theron.

“I am certain that any good whorehouse would have adequate means to make even the most inexperienced adventurer feel comfortable, Alistair.”

“Can we talk about something else now? Anything else?” The human asked loudly in the face of the Antivan’s wide grin. “What were you doing talking to Sanga?”

“Merely inquiring about the availability of a room.” Zevran shrugged casually, and Theron tried not to let his surprise show.

“But it’s a brothel, not an inn.” The ranger pointed out, although he had a feeling he knew where the conversation would lead.

“True, but brothels are surprisingly accommodating, so long as coin is involved.”

The Dalish elf let out a measured sigh. Was that what Zevran had paid for? The use of a room in The Pearl?

“This wasn’t what I had in mind about a change of subject.” Alistair lamented as they reached Denerim’s market district.

“Me neither.” Theron agreed, wishing now that he’d stayed silent.

“So if you two elves are gonna skip off to the Pearl for a night or two of rolling your oats and leave a perfectly good room empty, does that mean I won’t have to share a room with the giant?” Oghren asked hopefully.

“I’m sure that Sten would be more cheered by that idea than you, my smelly dwarven friend.” Zevran answered dryly, gaze scanning the marketplace in a way Theron now recognised. Looking for either threat or possible escape route out of deeply ingrained habit. “But sadly you cannot have your own room, because I was unable to rent one myself. The prices were simply extortionate.” The former Crow tutted, and Theron felt himself relax.

“It’s a brothel, what did you expect?” Alistair sighed, and he paled when Zevran took a breath as his eyes gleamed with mischief. “No! Don’t- Don’t answer that. Maker’s breath...”

The blond huffed in disappointment, but the group settled into contemplative silence as they walked. Theron found himself sneaking glances at the Antivan, still wondering what he’d bought if it hadn’t been a room. He would have asked, but he doubted the others would have liked to hear the answer.

Instead, he settled for asking about something else that mystified him.

“Why do they call it The Pearl?”

Oghren’s sudden outburst of loud laughter and Zevran’s quickly hidden smirk did little to ease his confusion.

“I’ve wondered that too.” Alistair admitted reassuringly over the noise as they reached the Gnawed Noble.

“If these two aren’t going to stop laughing, maybe Leliana could tell us.”

For some reason lost to the Wardens, that only elicited even more laughter from their more worldly companions.

 

Theron didn’t get a chance to talk to Zevran about what he might have purchased in the brothel until the evening, the rest of the day’s work of running errands for the Chanter’s board having kept them all busy. In truth, the matter had slipped the ranger’s mind entirely.

“Why is there a g in night?” He sighed, frowning down at the book he was attempting to read by himself, curled up in bed for the night.

“Because the written language is a tortuous beast. Trust me, writing is harder than reading the common tongue.” Zevran offered dryly as he finished cleaning a stubborn patch of dried blood from the buckles of his leather chestpiece. He stretched, and reached for his pack to return the cloth.

“It makes no sense.” Theron grumbled, setting the book down on the bedsheets; he’d read two pages so far without needing assistance every sentence, so that was probably enough reading for one night. Instead, he chose to watch the Antivan rummaging through his pack for his sleeping trousers, and remembered the events of the day.

“When we were at The Pearl today…” The black-haired elf began, sitting up rather than continue to lean against the headboard, and Zevran gave him a curious look.

“What about it? Did you see someone you liked?” The blond asked with a knowing grin, and Theron smirked back even as his cheeks heated at the idea.

“No-one new.” He replied, looking the Antivan up and down none too subtly. “But did you buy something? You were talking to Sanga for a while.”

Zevran sat back at the question, expression pensive.

“I did enquire about the availability of a private room for us, _amor_.” He shrugged, as casual as he had been earlier in the day.

“I didn’t know it was possible to rent a room. What about the, uh, other clients?”

The blond grinned again.

“There are plenty of rooms, if that was your worry. But, in my experience, as long as a man - or woman - has enough coin, the proprietors don’t always mind where business is conducted within the building, so long as it is not too distracting or inconvenient.” Zevran explained, and Theron blinked at him.

“I’m not sure I wanted to know that much about brothels.”

The former Crow chuckled.

“Apologies, then. But to answer your first question, I _did_ buy something.” He continued, reaching for his pack again. “For us, of course.”

“Dare I ask what a brothel could possibly sell?” Theron asked warily.

“Aside from the whores themselves? Many things.”

Zevran soon withdrew a small wad of cloth, and edged up the bed so he could hand it over to the ranger and continue getting ready for bed. The Dalish elf blinked at the cloth bundle, and then pulled at one corner to find out what it was hiding.

“A ring?” He frowned down at the plain gold-plated band, although it looked too big for a finger or even a thumb.

“Of sorts.” The Antivan replied airily, pulling off his smallclothes and grabbing his sleeping trousers from his pack.

“What do you mean, of sorts?” The ranger asked, raising one eyebrow skeptically as he continued to study the ring. The metal was unengraved, smooth and polished until it shone.

“Well, it is not a ring meant for fingers, _mi amor._ ” Zevran began gently as he paced around the room, moving his pack off the bed and making a halfhearted effort towards tidying his things away for one night. He turned back at just the right time to see Theron’s eyes widen as realisation dawned until he looked like a startled halla.

“And it goes…?”

“Yes.” Zevran bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from smiling at the Dalish elf’s innocence. The other elf stared down at the ring in his palm, quiet until Zevran sat beside him on the bed.

“Why?”

“Supposedly it is to prevent the wearer from reaching climax until the ring is removed.” The blond explained patiently, moving to sit behind Theron so he could wrap his arms loosely around his waist and pull him close.

“Have you tried one before?” The ranger asked, shifting where he sat so he could lean his head back against Zevran’s shoulder.

“A few times, yes.” The Antivan replied, looking at the ring over the black-haired elf’s shoulder. “They usually work, in my experience.” He added.

Theron relaxed, his shoulders falling ever so slightly, but Zevran pretended not to notice.

“So you know how to use them.”

“I doubt I would have bought it if I wasn’t confident of my own knowledge or your willingness to try it. But saying that, we do not have to try it if you don’t want to.” The blond answered, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to the Dalish elf’s neck as Theron leaned back against him, both of them enjoying the closeness even if they’d never admit to it yet.

“I could do with a day or two to think about it.”

“Of course, _amor_. We won’t be leaving Denerim for a while yet anyway, not until we find a lead for that fabled Urn, yes?”

The Dalish elf nodded in confirmation, and the rest of the night was spent indulging in slow, lazy kisses.

 

The ring returned to a corner of Zevran's pack the next morning, safely hidden inside it's cloth, but the knowledge that it was there and always just a few paces away never left Theron's mind entirely throughout the day. The idea of a cock ring was new enough, and it was difficult to imagine wearing it himself. What if Zevran wore it?

The sudden mental image of the Antivan wearing the ring in a way that made the metal gleam even golder than his skin sent the ranger's arrow flying too soon and far too wide, missing the currently-happening fight entirely. It brought him back to the task at hand, and he shook the image of a wonderfully naked and wanting Zevran from his mind to refocus on the fight.

"Careful." Morrigan offered coolly from where she stood nearby, a spell crackling in her hand and an unimpressed look on her face. Of course she would be the first one to notice if he missed his mark, being the only other fighter that worked from a distance.

The Dalish elf didn't trust himself to speak, so he merely nodded as he nocked another arrow and hoped he didn’t look too rattled. Surely there were better times to think such thoughts than the middle of a back alley scrap? This time, his aim was more accurate. One of the thugs was distracted by the arrow suddenly embedded in his shoulder and didn't see the other elven rogue dart round his uninjured side until the first poisoned blade was sunk deep between his ribs and the second was drawn firmly across his throat.

As the man fell to the ground to choke on his blood, the former Crow shot the watching ranger a brief, but knowing smirk before he whirled round and rejoined the fight. Theron found himself hoping the smirk was due to the successful kill, although he doubted it.

The Dalish elf cleared his throat as he searched for another target, resolving not to think about Zevran or the ring until after the fight, at the very least.

“Is everyone alright?” He asked once the last enemy had fallen, partly out of habit and partly because he doubted Morrigan or Oghren would be as concerned about the wellbeing of others enough to ask.

The responses were all positive, so the ranger allowed himself to relax as he set to work reclaiming what arrows he could and Zevran searched for coin or other useful items. Oghren leaned against his waraxe to dig out a flask Theron doubted contained water, and Morrigan watched the two rogues disdainfully.

“Buzzards.” She muttered, but both Theron and Zevran ignored her in favour of looting the corpses.

“You seem rather distracted today.” The blond commented, and Theron paused in cutting away the cooling flesh around a deeply embedded arrowhead, a task he was beginning to realise was a waste of his time.

“So you saw that failed shot?” The ranger asked, and Zevran jerked a thumb over one shoulder. Theron  scanned the area indicated, and he frowned when he saw the stray arrow sticking out of a sack propped against a wall.

“Might I ask why? It’s not like you to miss like that.” Zevran continued, and the Dalish elf rolled his eyes.

“You know why. I’m not going to humour you by telling you what distracted me.” The black-haired elf replied in a quieter voice, giving up on the arrow he was trying to free and moving on to another body.

“Who said anything about humouring me? I truly do not know. I am curious, as anyone else would be.” Zevran insisted, his tone far too light and amused, and Theron sighed.

“I’m sure you can guess.” He answered dryly, turning to look at the Antivan, and he tried not to recall the earlier image of him wearing the ring and nothing else. Not while he was standing barely five paces away. The blond sighed in defeat, but grew quiet until the group carried on several minutes later.

“Perhaps you could tell me later, when we are alone?” Zevran suggested quietly, so Oghren and Morrigan behind them wouldn’t overhear.

The Dalish elf couldn’t help a smile, even as he shrugged noncommittally.

“Perhaps.” He echoed, now they had returned to navigating Denerim’s winding streets allowing his thoughts to creep back to the one image that had distracted him earlier, and what had caused it. He still felt nervous at the idea of wearing the ring himself, but he could hardly pass up the opportunity to actually try it and see if it was something he liked. Zevran seemed certain that he would. And if it wasn’t, then at least he would know. It wasn’t as if he had anything to lose, and there was the possibility that Zevran would use it instead.

“Or perhaps tonight I’ll let you do whatever you want to me?” Theron mused, looking across at the blond and raising an eyebrow in playful challenge.

Zevran blinked in surprise, before he smiled.

“In that case, I look forwards to tonight, _amor_. Killing is all well and good, but I can think of a few equally exciting things we could be doing instead.” The former Crow purred, one hand moving to rest against his pack briefly, a gesture that would have been an obvious reminder if Theron hadn’t already been thinking about what was in it. The ranger nodded slowly, feeling his stomach twist in nervous anticipation.

 

The nerves didn’t abate for the rest of the day, and the evening meal provided for them at the Gnawed Noble felt like it lasted far longer than normal. Theron finally excused himself from the chatter, leaving the tables the group had claimed as theirs for the duration of the stay, and retreated to his and Zevran’s room.

The Dalish elf sat on the edge of the bed, and found himself staring at the blond’s pack where it had been left on top of the dresser. He considered getting the ring out to examine it, but the door opened before he could do more than think about it.

Zevran leaned against the shut door, arms folded over his armoured chest and a faint smirk gracing his lips as they looked at each other.

“So I can do _anything_ I want with you tonight?” He asked casually.

“I probably should have been more specific.” Theron sighed, smiling back at the tease.

“Specific is good. I enjoy it when you describe what you want to do or have done to you.” The blond admitted as he moved to sit beside the ranger. “So, have you come to a decision about the ring?”

The Dalish elf nodded, taking the opportunity to kiss Zevran briefly.

“I’ve thought about it all day.”

“I wondered.” The blond grinned.

“I’d like to at least try it.”

Zevran pulled away then, and Theron watched as he walked over to his pack and began to sift through it again.

“You know, _amor_ , I like that armour of yours. But I think it would look even better on the floor.” The Antivan commented over one shoulder, and the Dalish elf bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as he stood up.

“Is that a hint?” The black-haired elf asked as he began to undo the various buckles of his armour.

“A very obvious one.” Zevran agreed, turning back round with the ring in his hand. For a second, he watched Theron work at his armour, before he set the ring down on the dresser and began to take his own off. Theron smirked, counting how many daggers Zevran produced from various places on his person and set in a pile.

“Why do you need that many daggers?” The ranger asked as he pulled his gloves and boots off.

“It never hurts to be prepared.” The blond shrugged, adding another dagger to the pile.

“You have… Six, seven, eight… Why would you need eight daggers? Do you even have the chance to use all of them?” Theron raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Admittedly, no.”

They smiled as they continued undressing; Theron finished first, and sat back on the bed in his smallclothes.

“If only armour was simpler to remove.” Zevran lamented, finally pulling his padding off and tossing it carelessly onto the pile with the rest of his armour.

Theron shrugged.

“I don’t know, if you cut the right straps…” He suggested, watching the blond ensure the bedroom door was locked.

“Are you, of all people, suggesting to damage a perfectly decent set of armour?” Zevran tutted as he picked the ring up from the dresser, and the ranger snorted.

“It was a joke.” He answered, sitting back on the bed as Zevran joined him. “Or, an attempt at one.”

“I wasn’t aware you were even capable of making jokes.” The blond teased, and the Dalish elf laughed despite himself.

“Neither was I.” Theron answered, leaning over to kiss Zevran gently before his gaze fell to his hand, and the ring there. “So, how shall we do this?” He queried as he examined the innocently gleaming metal band.

“Do you want to wear it tonight?” Zevran replied, and once again Theron found himself thinking of the mental image that had plagued him for most of the day, of Zevran wearing it.

“Yes, but if I change my mind will you?”

“Of course, _amor_.” Zevran shifted where he sat. “Here, you hold it while I get the oil.” He offered, holding the ring out casually. The metal was warm from his hand, and the black haired elf stared at it rather than the Antivan as he walked back to the dresser and his pack with sinuous grace.

Theron studied the ring closely; aside from the size, it was as plain and unremarkable-looking as any other kind of ring they’d picked up on their travels to be sold on. So, when his entire hand began to prickle, he quickly dropped it onto the bed in alarm.

“Oh.”

“What?” Zevran asked as he turned round, the needed vial of oil in his hand and a slight frown of concern on his face. Theron blinked, not realising his exclamation had been aloud.

“It tingles.”

Zevran grinned, the mildly concerned expression fading.

“Then it lives up to it’s name.”

“It has a name?” The Dalish elf raised one eyebrow as he picked the ring up again carefully.

“The best rings do. As do weapons.” The blond nodded, slinking back over to the bed. “I thought it would be more entertaining to get an enchanted one.” He added, smirking as he sat down again.

“Entertaining is one word for it.” Theron muttered, remembering where this ring would end up and feeling his stomach tighten in nervous anticipation again. This time, when his hand began to tingle he kept ahold of the ring, feeling Zevran watching him as he got used to the sensation. It was new, and different, but so was what they were about to do. Ultimately, he decided it was a strange but pleasant sensation.

“How does it feel?” The Antivan asked.

“Nice.” The black-haired elf smiled, looking up at the blond.

“Good.” Zevran grinned back, leaning forwards to kiss the ranger briefly. “Shall we continue?”

Theron’s response was to pull the blond in for another kiss, the tightness of the nerves in his stomach easing slightly as they settled into the familiar process. He leaned back on one hand, the ring pressed down into the bedsheets, as Zevran began to press hard kisses to his neck.

“Are you going to leave a mark or three again?” The ranger asked, fighting back a smile as he tilted his head back to allow the blond more room.

“I could. It would certainly give Alistair something to get flustered about over breakfast, no?” Zevran purred in his ear, moving onto his hands and knees gracefully.

“You’re cruel to him, I hope you realise.” Theron shook his head in feigned disapproval.

“Mm.” The blond hummed, breath ghosting over the ranger’s throat as he sighed. “Perhaps I find his embarrassment too entertaining sometimes.” He admitted, the next kiss gentle against the Dalish elf’s pulse point.

“I can tell.”

Zevran chuckled, lifting his head up so he could look Theron in the eyes.

“I find yours more endearing, however.”

The ranger smiled warmly as he stretched his legs out underneath the former Crow, getting comfortable as he tried to ignore the lingering nerves in his stomach.

“Of course you would.”

The next kiss was deeper as Zevran’s hands began to wander down Theron’s body, his touches light and teasing, but still insistent. The Dalish elf responded eagerly, his own hands running up the other elf’s bare sides to feel the subtle shifting of muscles beneath golden skin. Theron parted his thighs in response to Zevran's gentle touches, his body quick to respond to the warm and callused hand that wrapped itself around his member and coaxed it to hardness.

“I hope it fits.” Zevran mused, pulling down the ranger's smallclothes.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Theron frowned in lighthearted disapproval.

The blond grinned wolfishly.

"As if I would be so cruel as to insult you like that." He purred as his hand kept moving slowly, and the ranger's hips moved up into the heated touch.

"Hm." The black-haired elf sighed in noncommittal response, resting his head back on the pillows.

"Do you want to put the ring on yet?" Zevran asked after a few minutes of quiet had passed, and Theron looked down at the ring still in his hand.

“Yes.” He answered after a few seconds of thinking it over, and sat up again. The Antivan nodded, a smile at the corners of his lips as he reached for the vial of oil.

“Let me know if it’s too tight. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“What will you do if it’s too tight?” Theron asked, suddenly curious even as Zevran’s oil-slick hand ran down the length of his member, the feeling making him close his eyes in bliss.

“Perhaps try it on myself, and see if it fits me.” The blond shrugged, leaning forwards to press a kiss to the ranger’s lips. “And if you are still willing, The Pearl had different sizes...?”

Theron smiled at the idea of Zevran wearing the ring, so like his private fantasy, and the resulting flush of heated arousal low in his stomach.

“If it fits me, would you wear it anyway?” The black-haired elf queried as he looked down at the ring in his hand again. Zevran let out a quiet laugh, and nodded.

“I shall, if that is what you desire.”

Theron grinned back, and carefully slid the ring on. It soon became clear why Zevran had used the oil, as it moved with little friction to fit snugly around the base of his cock.

“So, what do you think? Is it comfortable?” The blond asked, no doubt admiring the view. The Dalish elf hesitated, feeling the lingering effects of the enchantment leave his hand. It wouldn’t be long until they resumed where they were supposed to be. That would certainly be an interesting feeling.

“It’s a little cold.” The ranger admitted, and Zevran chuckled. “How tight is it supposed to be?” He added, carefully touching the ring. It wasn’t uncomfortably tight, but it was certainly tight enough to notice.

“Not very, but if you are uncertain you don’t have to wear it.” The blond replied with a casual shrug.

Theron nodded, eyes widening briefly as the ring’s enchantment began to work as and where it was supposed to. _Oh_. It was certainly an interesting feeling, but it was the last straw in a mix of unfamiliarity.

“Consider me uncertain, then.” He answered as he carefully pulled the ring off, and he didn’t have to look at Zevran to know he was trying not to laugh out loud; he could hear the snickering clearly enough. Mild embarrassment heated his cheeks, but he kept the ring in his hand.

“Perhaps I was too ambitious in getting an enchanted ring for your first time.” Zevran mused to himself, smiling at the Dalish elf in understanding sympathy. “No matter.” He added, as the ranger leaned forwards to kiss him apologetically.

“Do you want to wear it?” Theron asked, glancing down at the ring one last time.

“I may as well.” The other elf nodded. “It would be a shame to waste the evening’s… Efforts.” He added, his gaze slowly trailing downwards with an appreciative smile. Theron handed the ring over, once again thinking about that one mental image so he could compare fantasy to reality at last.

“You said that The Pearl has different sizes?” He asked, leaning back comfortably against the headboard as he watched Zevran prepare himself, stretching his legs out carefully.

“Mm.” The Antivan sighed, slipping the ring on himself and wiping the excess oil onto the sheets carelessly. “Shall I go back tomorrow and find something more suitable, _amor_?” He purred, moving to straddle the ranger’s thighs.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Theron grinned back, reaching to press a gentle kiss to the blond’s cheek. Zevran smiled and returned the kiss eagerly, one hand snaking up to tangle in Theron’s braids loosely.

“Tonight I seem to have found myself in the jaws of a wolf.” The Dalish elf commented when they parted reluctantly, drawing a soft laugh.

“Only the jaws, _amor_?” Zevran mused, tilting his head so his lips could brush the ranger’s throat.

Theron shrugged, glancing down as the blond shifted forwards to sit in his lap, until their lips met in another, deeper kiss.

“Enjoying the view?” The blond asked a few minutes later when he pulled away, voice as seductive as it was breathless.

The ranger looked sheepish for a few seconds until Zevran rocked his hips promptingly.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, fooling no-one. The ring gleamed bright gold, and reality was nearly as good as fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on: http://a-mahariels-travels.tumblr.com/post/120417891836/negativeonetwelfth-foxghost-squints-at  
> If you look very closely, you can see the exact point where I had a mild breakdown and baulked at writing full-on smut. This took a long time to get finished, and safe to say I don't think I'll be writing any new explicit smut anytime soon. How sad.  
> Constructive criticism, whether on this piece or any others I've posted on here, is very much welcome!


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